The Bonner Incident: Joshua's War (11 page)

“Sorry, I panicked. Name’s Reggie,” the man grunted. “They allow these things to be sold?”

“Yeah, Reggie, you can buy them in a lot of places” Leary said, prying the one on the man’s forearm open and he pulled his hand out. Letting the trap go, Leary started working on the one on his leg. “I never thought these Conibear traps could be used on a human though.”

With the three freed from traps, Leary led them in a crawl to the ones who had been shot. He looked at the two Homeland agents, seeing both were dead and realized they had been hit by the same bullet. They both had tactical vests on, but didn’t have the armor plates in them. Unzipping the vests, he patted their chests and found they’d both had on bullet proof vests. Rolling the second one on his side, Leary saw the bullet hadn’t come out of the back of the vest.

Reggie and the others looked on as Leary crawled to the next man, who was the one shot after the Homeland agents. He was FBI and he was wearing a tactical vest with plates, but the bullet had passed through the front and out the back.

“I only heard one shot,” Reggie said as Leary moved to the next man shot and found him dead as well. “How could he hit five people with one shot?”

“Those Homeland jerks were hit by the same bullet,” Leary said crawling past the next shot man, seeing he was dead also. “They were standing one behind the other and the rifle that killed them didn’t have a silencer on it. The others were shot with a rifle that had a silencer.”

“We still should have heard it,” Reggie said as Leary started crawling back to Glen who had tried to run away.

“Reggie, you do realize that Mr. Anderson was almost a mile away, right? From the time those Homeland morons were hit till we heard the report was close to three, maybe four seconds.”

“You said we didn’t have to worry about that slope,” Tony, the point man who stepped in the first trap, shouted.

Probing the ground as he crawled, a loud snap went off making the group startle as Leary found a trap they had walked past. “Nobody told me Mr. Anderson was a sniper, and you have any idea how hard it is to hit a target from that far away?”

“Sorry,” Tony mumbled.

“Guys, make sure you’re only crawling where I crawled. I’ve seen the chains to over twenty traps on both sides of this animal trail,” Leary said and everyone crawled in single file behind him till each man’s face was in the boots of the man in front of him.

When Leary reached Glen, he fought not to puke. Glen had been shot low in the back just above the pelvis on the left side. Leary didn’t know what size gun Mr. Anderson was using, but knew it was big just to travel that far. But seeing the exit wound on Glen, Leary wondered if it was a cannon.

“Glen’s guts are hanging out!” Reggie shouted.

“I can see that,” Leary said and crawled past Glen. “We need to crawl to those trees down there where that stream comes down that slope. From there, we can head up to the ridge and call for a chopper.”

“A chopper can’t land up there, so how is it supposed to pick us up?” Reggie asked.

Not stopping as he crawled, probing the ground in front of him, “Okay, we’ll get to the trees and look for a clearing and call for the chopper.”

“How about you go up to the ridge and call the chopper to pick us up down here?”

Leary stopped and rolled on his side looking at Reggie who was right behind him. “What? So Anderson can shoot my ass? The two who left the last group died that way.”

“Oh,” Reggie said and jerked his head back toward the bodies. “We just going to leave them here?”

“I don’t know what kind of gun he’s using, but it looks big enough to hurt the choppers,” Tony said behind them. “They aren’t going to land where they can get shot at. We have to move away from here.”

“I don’t like it either, but you and I are the only ones not wounded and we’re going to have to help the three that are, so they can get to a hospital. They have those SWAT teams at the command area that can come and get the bodies,” Leary said rolling back on his stomach. “This is not what I signed up for, having to crawl away just so we can call in a chopper to pick up wounded,” he said as he started crawling.

“I can agree with that,” Tony grunted in pain as he bumped the screw still sticking out of his right shin.

***

From three-quarters of a mile away, Joshua took his eye away from the spotting scope, watching the men crawl through the ferns. He knew two were alive and not wounded, but it didn’t do any good to kill everyone. Some had to live to tell the others, so they would know to be afraid.

Picking up the spotting scope and putting it back in the case, Joshua turned to look at King and Jack. “Did you see that?” he grinned, grabbing his Sharps. “The old Sharps hit two with one shot.”

Standing up, he saw King and Jack just looking at him. “Well, I’m proud of that shot,” he mumbled and gathered up the rest of his gear. “Don’t have long, so let’s get moving. I hope they like the trouble I’m going through to impress them.”

***

It was seven hours later when Griffey looked at Moore in shock. “You want to repeat that?”

“One of the men who stepped in one of the traps is dead,” Moore repeated. “The doctors told me one of the others will be dead soon, and the third will be lucky if he sees sunrise.”

“From a trap?” Griffey shouted slapping the table.

Winters looked up from her notes. “No, from whatever Mr. Anderson put on those screws,” she said looking Griffey in the eye. “Sir, no sooner than Park Ranger Leary Pinon and BATF agent…” she paused glancing at her notes, “Reggie Vincent gave their reports, they ran to the tents where the other search teams are and started talking. I’m not being mendacious when I say the others are getting scared.”

“Stop them now!” Griffey shouted.

“And just how do you suggest we do that?” Moore asked cutting his eyes at Winters.

“Transfer them out,” Winters said turning to Moore. “But before they leave, remind them they signed a nondisclosure.”

Nodding, as he raised his eyebrows impressed with her suggestion. Moore turned to Griffey. “That would work, Griffey.”

“Do it,” Griffey snapped.

Holding up the report from the two surviving members of the team as he read, Wagner leaned back in his chair. “We have any idea what was on those screws?”

“One is being flown to Washington for analysis,” Winters said passing Moore a note.

Seeing the note, Griffey looked at Winters. “This isn’t grade school, Moore thinks highly of you, so just ask?”

Reading the note, Moore nodded at her. “Winters was just saying, we need to get to the site and process it as soon as possible.”

“Choppers will lift off at first light, if the weather holds,” Wagner said.

Turning to Wagner with a grin, “So, are you coming to evaluate the scene with us?” Winters asked.

“Yes, he is,” Griffey said snatching up an ink pen. “So, out of a ten-man team, only two survived?”

Moore turned to Winters and nodded. “Yes, but that’s only because he let two go,” Winters said looking at her notes. “Looking at the map and aerial photos, I’m sure Mr. Anderson could’ve shot them, especially since they were crawling. From his elevation, I have little doubt he could see them.”

“So why?” Griffey asked looking at Moore who reached over, patting Winters’ arm for her to answer.

“To spread fear among the search teams,” she said looking up at Griffey. “Since we are denying that he blew up our first command area, Anderson is letting others escape.”

“Our teams are made up of federal agents who all have arrest powers, Winters. I know some will be scared, but not many,” Wagner snapped.

Winters looked across the table. “So, the three hundred who suddenly said they were sick and couldn’t go out tomorrow to relieve the teams that are out, is a coincidence?”

“Nobody gets sick call unless I approve it,” Griffey said.

Moore shook his head, “Griffey, you can’t rule them with an iron fist, they work for us.”

“And they will work,” Griffey spat. “Now,” he said opening a folder up. “I’ve been able to call in an expert wilderness tracker, Giles Burton. He will be here in a few hours and will go out with you in the morning.”

“Giles Burton? The guy on that reality TV show who chases people around the woods?” Moore asked as Winters' mouth dropped open.

“Yes, I’m told he is good,” Griffey said. “He also chases them around mountains and deserts. If a group can evade him for ten days, they get a million dollars. For the two seasons he’s been on, nobody has collected.”

“Griffey, it’s reality TV, it’s make-believe,” Moore said.

Closing the folder, Griffey passed it to Moore. “He was a game guide in Africa for three years, then a hunting guide in Alaska for a year.”

Taking the folder, Moore opened it up. “Then he sucks. A good guide in Alaska can pull down a hundred thousand a year and those in Africa can make more.”

“He’s tracked fugitives before,” Griffey said as Winters leaned over to read the folder.

“Ah, yeah,” Moore said pointing at a paragraph, dragging his finger along as he read and then looked up. “He found a man half-starved in Texas who had no outdoor experience.”

Snorting, Winters stifled a giggle. “He gets all book and movie rights for doing this?”

“Yes, but we get to approve the book, so he must leave out some of our aspects,” Griffey said.

“I like it,” Wagner said. “I request that one of my response teams accompany him.”

“He will only allow five and they must be physically fit,” Griffey said with a nod.

With a huge grin, “I’ll choose them personally,” Wagner said.

Moore looked up, trying not to laugh. “Well, Griffey, at least you made him sign a waiver releasing us from liabilities.”

“Well Moore, since you haven’t given me anything to go on, I have to find other avenues to pursue,” Griffey grumbled. “So, did you read these reports?” Griffey asked holding up the reports from the surviving team members.

“Griffey, I’m the one who took those reports.”

“So can you explain how he hit three targets almost simultaneously? I understand how Wagner’s men got shot; they were lined up.”

Opening a folder, Moore started thumbing through a stack of papers. “Yes, I talked to one of our firearm experts at Quantico,” he said and held up a photo of Joshua holding a rifle cradled in his arm next to a trophy. “This is a black powder Sharps, and Joshua won a match in eastern Montana seven years ago, hitting a twelve-by-twelve-inch target fourteen hundred yards away, three shots in a row.”

“That’s not a musket,” Wagner said pointing at the picture.

“No Wagner,” Moore droned. “It uses brass-cased bullets like our guns do, but they are loaded with black powder. If you look at Joshua’s belt, you will see the bullets this thing fires. They are forty-five caliber and almost three inches long.”

Laying down the photo, Moore pulled a map over and stood up. “Now, if Joshua was here,” he said pointing at the map and then moved his finger down a valley. “And the search team was here, that’s over fifteen hundred yards. Now, the Ranger said the Homeland and the other man were hit not even a second apart. Devin at Quantico said if Joshua would’ve shot the black powder first, he would’ve had almost three seconds to move behind another gun and shoot.

“This black powder rifle’s projectile would be airborne for over three seconds before impact. Now, if he rolled behind a modern rifle and fired, the bullets would almost impact simultaneously. Where the Sharps would take over three seconds, a modern bullet would cover the same ground in just over a second.”

Wagner snorted, “You’re suggesting he used two rifles, and one that’s based on a century and a half old technology?”

“Oh man, you’re going to give me a headache,” Moore mumbled putting his hands on his hips as he leaned back stretching his back. “I’m not suggesting shit, moron. I’m saying it’s a possible scenario on how he was able to do it.”

Taking a deep breath, Wagner started to stand up, but Griffey snapped his fingers. “Don’t,” Griffey growled. “You’ve already given me a headache Wagner. Make my headache worse and I’ll have you emptying the garbage cans.”

Wisely, Wagner sat down and Griffey gave a sigh, leaning back in his chair. “Moore, you really think Giles hasn’t got a chance?”

Walking around Griffey to a table in the back of the conference room that held refreshments and snacks, Moore grabbed a bottle of water. “No more than the teams we have out now.”

“Do you think he will hamper our current operation?”

Draining the bottle, Moore crushed it and tossed it in a garbage can. “No, but I can tell you, it will get you a lot of credit in Washington.”

“Who do you think suggested it?” Griffey mumbled. “Okay, he flies out with you tomorrow morning. Wagner, pick five men who can keep up with Giles and until the suspect is sighted, Giles is in charge.”

“Yes sir,” Wagner said jumping up with a grin and almost skipping out of the conference room.

When the door was shut, Griffey spun around in his chair and looked at Moore who was grabbing another bottle of water. “I didn’t order it, so don’t start.”

“Those two men are on one of Wagner’s special response team,” Moore said grabbing a plate and moving along the table, loading it with snacks.